


A Life That's Good

by afterdalton



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Daddies!Klaine, M/M, Nashville AU, angsty, but not totally angsty, mentions of past addiction, southern!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:11:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterdalton/pseuds/afterdalton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt has a choice to make about where his marriage stands. He's not sure if he's ready to make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Life That's Good

**Author's Note:**

> Actually pretty proud of this one! Yay me!
> 
> This is *inspired by* the show Nashville, the relationship between Rayna & Deacon, and the titular song.
> 
> And it's super relevant to me right now because I'm currently watching this week's episode and they're all performing the song together!

Focusing on fond memories isn’t enough to shake the feeling of dread causing Kurt’s skin to tingle as it washes over him and settles in his bones.

It’s already taken an inordinate amount of effort, on a day he has none to spare, just to get from the house to the car. Buckling himself in with uncharacteristically clumsy hands, he mutters under his breath a list of things he’d rather be doing today. Putting the key in the ignition is perfunctory, but the turning of the key requires more willpower than he’d have ever expected such a menial task to take.

He shifts into reverse after taking a look into the backseat and finding the courage he needs, along with a bit of guilt he wasn’t expecting. Where there had been giggles and jitters and joyful ramblings were, instead, tight lips and quiet discontent. He hadn’t even noticed, too lost in his own anxiety. Knowing his sour mood is dampened his daughters’ excitement makes him feel awful. His smile is forced, but necessarily so, when he asks the girls if they’re ready to go. Bright smiles and answers in the affirmative, and he takes his foot off the pedal.

“Mailbox!” is a game Kurt invented just to annoy his father when he was young, and basically consists of yelling “mailbox” every time he sees one. Some days he regrets passing this game on to his own children. Today, he’s grateful for anything that keeps them in high spirits and distracts from his own misery.

He pulls up to the house they used to called home. In the past year, he’s only been here a handful of times. Before that, he doesn’t even know how long it’d been.

And there’s Blaine, sitting on the porch steps. He looks good, healthier and happier, even if the look on his face is more nerves than elation.

The girls are bounding out of the car as soon as he brakes, and Kurt hopes to anyone listening that their enthusiasm will offset his returning discomfort once he can force himself out of the car. He openly stares from behind the safety of tinted windows as his children race across the lawn into the open, waiting arms of his long-estranged husband. He witnesses their pleasure and wishes he could forgive as fully.

:: ::

Inside, after the tension-filled hug and hellos with Blaine, he’s hit with a wave of nostalgia like a slap to the face. Every visit he’s made so far was all business, all just making plans and making sure he’s not a fool for the trust he’s placing in Blaine. And Blaine has visited their new home, has been led around room by room, a smaller hand in each of his, two little voices yammering over one another in their haste to show him everything all at once. Now though, being here just to be here, just to spend time together like they haven’t in years, claws at his heart, scratching an itch he’d rather ignore.

Seven months out of his latest stint at rehab, Blaine is finally reminiscent of the man Kurt fell in love with. It’s unsettling.

They’re married still – Blaine had pleaded and Kurt had acquiesced – but Kurt’s not sure what it even means at this point, if moving forward means an eventual reunion or an amicable divorce.

When Blaine offers him something to drink he uses it as an escape, walking a familiar path to fetch his own glass of water. He passes back through the way they came in, past the front door a part of him so desperately wants to run through.

The kitchen is much the same as he left it, clear exceptions being the renovations made to mask holes Blaine had punched through the wall and a new microwave since Blaine sent their last one through a window. That was the day Kurt packed his bags.

A series of marks etched into the doorframe leading to the pantry catches his attention. Both Sadie and Risa have shot up at least a foot since the last mark was made, he thinks, trailing his fingers along the jagged ridges. He can’t imagine missing as much of his children’s lives as Blaine has, can’t imagine seeing hesitation in their eyes to know what to call him. Blaine, who never wanted to become his father, has failed at nearly every attempt not to.

Sadie loves Blaine, knows it’s from him that she got her curly hair and hazel eyes, but she’s the youngest and she’s had to make the most adjustments to fit Blaine back into her life. Kurt is there when Blaine visits and when he leaves, has to watch Sadie struggle to reconcile the image of Blaine Anderson, country star, with the father who has been all but totally absent since she was three. Either Blaine is blissfully ignorant or he’s purposely avoiding that Sadie isn’t nearly as affectionate as her sister is with him. Four years of failing someone is a lot to ask forgiveness for. Luckily, the novelty of discovering the world views her parents as superstars has yet to lose its shine.

Pulling himself away from tainted memories and fears of the future, Kurt pours himself the drink he set out for. Listening out for any indication of Blaine or the girls approaching, he then subtly checks through the cabinets and pantry shelves and all the nooks and crannies for liquor, for drugs, for signs that Blaine is using again. It returns to him with the ease of remember how to ride a bike, which turns his stomach. Their worst was more than he could handle if it happened again.

“I kinda figured this is what you’re in doing,” comes Blaine southern drawl.

As long as Kurt has lived in Nashville, he’s never picked up the country sound in his speech. Long ago, when they’d only just met, when Blaine’s party boy ways were in their infancy and Kurt wasn’t yet _The Kurt Hummel_ instead _that kid from that one movie, you know, the singing one_ , Kurt would tease the boot-clad charmer lounging in his trailer about his “cute little accent” until a blush crept up Blaine’s neck and a publicly rare bashful side appeared.

“Kurt,” Blaine speaks softly.

Blaine’s natural Kentucky accent steamrolls over every other dialect he comes into contact with. Kurt recognizes the twang as home if his pulse is any indication. As broken as their home may be, Kurt’s heartbeat quickens each time he hears is name cross Blaine’s lips. This particular effect had disappeared a while back; its recent return brings him back around to that disquieting perplexity over his feelings about Blaine.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Blaine. And he is. This sure as hell isn’t the future he envisioned.

“No, it’s alright.”

Blaine is quite timid when he’s repentant, Kurt remembers. It’s sweet, but uncalled for.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I trust you, Blaine. I wouldn’t be here – the girls wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. _I’m_ sorry.”

Blaine nods in lieu of speaking. Trying to be comforting, he pats Blaine on the arm, but it’s awkward and a conversation about what they are and what they’re going to be is an urgent necessity.

:: ::

Kurt quickly ascertains why Blaine came looking for him, once they’ve settled in the living room. Neither of his daughters are social butterflies exactly; and sporadic visits with Blaine have made him less a stranger, but he’s still not fully a parent or friend.

Initial excitement has waned in the face of stark realization there are no inside jokes to ruminate on, no comforts of home to distract, no solid foundation to build upon. Blaine is the parent who cared too much about himself for too long and Kurt realizes the shine _is_ starting to lose its gleam for his girls.

Suggesting a look into the music room helps them over the wall they’ve hit. Blaine leads the way, but Kurt holds him back at the doorway, letting Sadie and Risa explore for themselves.

“Are their rooms –?”

Blaine eagerly cuts him off, optimism in every word. “Fully furnished. Clean. Ready whenever you say yes.”

They’ve talked about this, about Kurt allowing him to take the girls on his own, to have them overnight, to brush their teeth and their hair, to get them up in the morning and to school on time. They had one of those discussions about tonight, but Kurt hadn’t made up his mind.

“I’m saying yes.”

The warm grin on Blaine’s face, he can’t help but mirror. Touching isn’t something they do much of anymore, so when Blaine flings himself into Kurt’s arms, Kurt is slow to respond; when he does, it’s with exuberant fervor. Holding Blaine answers questions his jumbled mind resists addressing. Nose buried in the crook of his husband’s neck, he knows they’ll be having that necessary conversation tonight once the girls have gone to bed. He tightens his grip when he feels Blaine relax to let go, to both their surprise.

“I missed you,” Kurt whispers when Blaine pulls back to look at him. Determination and sincerity are written into every one of Blaine’s features as he says, “I’m here, baby. ‘M here now.” And Kurt’s resolve is in the rearview and fading.

Kissing Blaine is a luxury he’s denied himself too long, he decides. However sloppy and off-centered the kisses fall at first, he’s greedy for more, for compensation of all those they’ve missed. “We need to talk about this,” Kurt interjects in the tiny moments he can force his lips away from Blaine. He hears the rushed “uh huh” before they’re reattached.

“I love you,” Blaine gasps, and Kurt nods into his shoulder. Pressing a lingering kiss to smiling lips, hands on either side of Blaine’s head, Kurt brushes away the start of tears with his thumbs. “I love you, too.”

The fall of a guitar echoes through the room, Sadie’s giggling, and Risa’s “uh oh” stick a pin in their bubble.

“We should get in there,” Blaine muses.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“We have got to talk about this, Blaine,” Kurt insists, neither moving away from the other

“Yes sir,” Blaine adds quietly.

Blaine is kissing him again, hesitant and hopeful. Now that Kurt has given himself permission to love this man again, muscle memory laid dormant is reawakening and his fingers thread into Blaine’s hair as they’ve done a million times before, his lips move easy, rapt and responsive, his whole being leans into the warmth Blaine’s body provides.

Blaine whispers his love and Kurt feels it in his bones.

“Stop making out,” the girls shout in unison. “So embarrassing,” Risa mumbles.

Blaine steps back and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Quiet, you two.” They scatter at the look Kurt gives them. “Acting sheepish won’t do you any favors, kid,” he tells Blaine. The old, forgotten nickname rolls off his tongue with an ease like he’d never stopped using it. “I’m gonna head out, okay,” he adds. “Just for a couple hours,” answering the questioning look on Blaine’s face. “Give you some time with them. Pack them each a bag for the night,” he pauses to look at their fingers interlaced, “Maybe – if it’s alright with you, I’ll pack a bag for myself. We’ve gotta talk,” Blaine chuckles and Kurt knows he’s repeating himself, but it’s important; he’s ready to talk, ready to let go the fears settled in the pit of stomach. “I have a feeling this conversation will take a while.”

“I’d love it for you to stay, Kurt.”

“Then I will.”

Telling the girls to behave, he retraces his steps until he’s back outside and sitting in his car. That earlier feeling of dread creeps back in the further away he drives, but not for the same reasons. Pondering why is needless, but he stops to consider Blaine with the clarity afforded him by physical distance when he gets home.

For all the times Blaine has attempted to remain clean and sober, Kurt hasn’t seen him so dedicated. He’s seen Blaine with their daughters these past few months, seen the way Blaine listens attentively, cataloguing all the information they share, not taking a single second of it for granted. He’s seen Blaine’s regret and his efforts to atone. Blaine always wanted so much to be a father, to be Kurt’s husband, to find the balance between work and family. He’d been successful for a few years, then… not so much. Blaine’s on his last chance, and Kurt is learning to trust Blaine understands that.

:: ::

“She’s real good on guitar. Real fast learner,” Blaine beams about Risa when Kurt lets himself back into his former home. He and the girls have relocated to the dining room, Sadie sitting on Blaine’s lap, Risa holding one of his guitars, and open packages of cookies and candy on the table between them.

Blaine has the good sense to look ashamed about the snacks when Kurt raises an eyebrow at him.

“Play me something later.”

“Definitely,” Blaine promises, Risa nodding her agreement.

“I’ll make dinner.”

“I’ll help.” Blaine stands and then addresses the girls, “Y’all wanna sit and watch tv or something, you can.”

Kurt thinks he likes this return to domesticity, thinks the life of a single parent may be over for him, that with a few more nights like this he wouldn’t object to waking up beside his husband again once in a while. Or always.

:: ::

“I went shopping. Obviously,” he gestures to the bags he’d placed on the counter when he came in. “I wasn’t sure what you had; my raid of the fridge earlier was to serve an entirely different purpose.”

“I think we can agree I’ve done worse, Kurt. It’s alright.”

“Don’t. Don’t excuse me just because of your own mistakes. This can’t work if we do that.”

“You’re right.”

“Stop agreeing with me all the time. It’s weird. Very not us.”

“’Kay,” Blaine smirks.

“Cheeky,” he laughs as arms wrap around his body from behind him. “This is nice.” Blaine’s affirmation is hummed against Kurt’s neck and sends shivers down his spine. “We have to talk.” He feels Blaine’s gentle laugh vibrating between them. “Yeah, yeah,” he turns, allowing himself to give Blaine a short kiss before he pushes him away.

“Where do we start?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kurt,” chides Blaine, teasingly.

“I don’t have a clue what to do here. I know I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Blaine blurts. “Forever.”

“I’m scared.”

“I won’t fuck up again.”

“Okay. First: you can’t make that promise. Second: that’s not what I’m afraid of. Not exactly.”

“Tell me.”

“I feel like I’m falling back into this – you, us – too fast. I guess I am scared you’ll use again, but more like I think I’ll be your clutch, keeping you sober, and I can’t live with that on my shoulders. Sadie and Risa don’t need that either. You have to be healthy for your own sake first.”

“I am,” Blaine asserts. “Sobriety benefits me the most here because it brings me to you. I’m doing everything possible to be the man you and those girls deserve; that’s where you fit in. Removing you from my recovery isn’t possible, baby.”

He takes a deep breath and continues, “My happiness is doesn’t hinge on you the way you think it does, but that don’t mean you don’t matter. I need to be a better man because I don’t like who I’ve been, not because I think deserving you equates to having you. The fact that you _are_ here, willing to forgive, letting me hold you – and hell I missed holding you – that’s more than I was ever gonna ask for. I want you back, but that ball is in your court.”

Kurt nods, taking it all in. “I want us to be us.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Yeah.” It’s all Kurt could think about this afternoon.

Blaine is biting back a grin, looking delirious and grateful and boyish and adoring. Kurt tugs him in close and kisses him, euphoric.

“This conversation is not over,” Kurt stresses, “but our children are not having sweets for dinner.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Right.”

“I am,” Blaine insists, crowding into Kurt’s personal space and sounding not-at-all apologetic. Kurt lets Blaine reacquaint himself with his skin and smell, fingers dragging down exposed arms and nose inhaling wherever it can reach.

“You’re no help in here,” he says when Blaine has slowed his movements. “Go. Spend time together. They missed you, too.”

:: ::

Later, when Blaine and Risa perform as promised, his anxieties are fading. Kurt looks toward the future, toward Blaine and their family and he’s happy, he realizes. Kurt skin prickles in anticipation of all that’s to come. All the music they’ll make, the laughter they’ll share, the home they’ll rebuild. The life they planned, the life they put on hold to live a life they hated, it’s possible now.

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a whole verse because I have about a million different ideas for one shots.
> 
> Let me know what you think?   
> <3


End file.
